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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683832">Puissant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness'>RogueLioness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thedosian Tales [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Pre-Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:09:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran’s target isn’t as easy as he thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zevrain Arainai/Female Tabris, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thedosian Tales [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Puissant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Zevran saw her, it was through death’s eyes, a predator viewing it’s prey.<b><br/></b></p>
<p>But the longer she stood there, her back to the large tree trunk that barred her only escape route, the more uneasy he became. She was impassive, face expressionless, eyes fixed on him- and <em>only</em> him - even though he was absolutely certain she had taken account of all of her would-be attackers and their positions.</p>
<p>Her eyes were grim, resigned yet determined, as though this was merely a minor inconvenience - and it irked him that she’d made him feel so insignificant without a word.</p>
<p>So he did what he had been hired to do. “The Grey Warden dies here,” he snarled, unsheathing his daggers and launching himself at her.</p>
<p>And in that moment between breaths, her face changed.</p>
<p>Her lips twisted into a mocking smile, challenge lighting her eyes, a wicked viciousness to the sharp edge of her jaw. He heard her call out a command, heard her companions enter the fray; but his eyes were on her alone. She moved sinuously, slipping into and out of the shadows with an ease that he envied. When he moved to where he thought she was - where he’d<em> seen</em> she was - she was no longer there, but there was a high-pitched, sharp cry of pain behind him, and he turned around just in time to see his mage companion fall.</p>
<p>Apparently, she did not consider him the biggest threat on the field.</p>
<p>That stung.</p>
<p>His pride wounded, he followed her path in the shadows, catching her back with his blade; the familiar feeling of dagger sliding through leather, and he knew the tip of it had pierced her skin.</p>
<p>Whether she knew it or not, she was a dead woman. The poison would make sure of that.</p>
<p>She whirled around with a cry - a beautiful, dangerous sound - and her blade’s edge caught the side of his neck in a motion he hadn’t expected. He felt warmth flow down his neck, felt his armor become wet, and he knew instantly that it was a wound that, if he did not tend to soon, would end him.</p>
<p>He welcomed it. It had been part of his plan, after all.</p>
<p>But she wasn’t done. Rage on her face, fire in her eyes, lips wearing the loveliest snarl he had ever seen, she raised the second dagger to bring it down on him. Instincts made him bring up his blade to parry; she tried to use her free hand to attack. Instead, she lurched forwards into him, taking him by surprise, and he understood why when he noticed the two arrows jutting out from her back.</p>
<p>She hissed in pain, and he took advantage of her lapse in concentration to shove her backwards, feeling a little guilty when she cried out as her freshly wounded back made sharp contact with one of the broken carts he’d brought in for the ambush. He swore under his breath in frustration as the dagger he flung missed its mark and instead embedded itself into wood - where she had been standing just seconds before.</p>
<p>Her aim was better, or maybe he was paying less attention than she was, because <em>her</em> shortsword did not miss; it was wedged deep and true into his shoulder, and he grimly realized he had lost use of his main hand. He brought his off hand up to block the incoming blow, but she changed her attack at the last moment, bringing her leg up and kicking him mightily in the groin, causing him to stumble back. His head made contact with something very solid, and there was a sudden burst of sharp, blinding pain before everything went black.</p>
<p>When he came to, he was bound tightly, the knots digging uncomfortably into his skin. For several moments he kept his eyes closed, listening to his captors move around. The low murmurs, the soft sound of bandages being unwrapped, sharp hisses of pain, all told him that his captors were tending to their wounds.</p>
<p>With a sudden start, he realized that they must have tended to his wounds as well, for he would not be awake if they had not. The uncertainty of why they had done so made him uneasy, and he pretended to stir, eager to initiate a conversation where he could learn their motivations for keeping him alive.</p>
<p>“Megara, keep still!” a feminine voice, a soft drawl, chided. He could not tell why, but he knew that it did not belong to the Grey Warden with the daggers and the pretty snarl.</p>
<p>“How is she?” another voice asked, this one masculine, worry ripe in the tone. Zevran suspected it belonged to the other Warden in the party, the one who had the boyish face and the ready smile.</p>
<p>“The antidote has taken effect, if that is what you wish to know. Beyond that- <em>Megara!</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>Megara!</em>” The two voiced their displeasure at the same time.</p>
<p>He felt someone kick his leg firmly, but not ungentle. “I know you’re awake.”</p>
<p>The voice definitely belonged to a woman, low-pitched and mellifluous, a dangerous edge to the way the words spilled out; as though if he were not careful they could cut him.</p>
<p>He knew instantly it belonged to the Grey Warden - to <em>Megara</em> - and he opened his eyes.</p>
<p>“Mmmm- what? I- okay. I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet.”</p>
<p>She said nothing, merely kept staring at him, and he used this opportunity to study her. She was young - too young for the heavy burdens that weighed down her shoulders and put that bitter wisdom in her eyes, he realized with a pang, and wondered what her life had been before she joined the Wardens. Hair the color of gold shone brighter than the sovereigns in his pocket, was pulled back from tawny skin kissed pink by the sun. She had unusual light grey-green eyes set under thick, well-shaped brows. Plump lips, rosebud in shape and color, were turned into a thoughtful moue.</p>
<p>She sat on a nearby rock, and continued her silent examination of him. Between them, the silence lingered thick and heavy, and even the muted conversations from her companions did little to lighten the atmosphere. He understood then, that she used silence as another weapon, and were it not for his extensive Crow training he would have given in and told her all that he knew.</p>
<p>She smiled them, a small one, though it did not reach her eyes. “I have some questions.”</p>
<p>“Ah. So I’m to be interrogated? Let me save you some time.” He told her who he was, and what he was meant to do - “brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have sadly failed to do.”</p>
<p>She exhaled at that. “Who hired you to kill us?” she asked blandly, as though she knew the answer.</p>
<p>“A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was? Yes, that’s it.”</p>
<p>She nodded, her suspicions confirmed. “Thank you,” she rose and walked away to rejoin her companions.</p>
<p>For the next few hours, he watched the group as they tended to their wounds, the mage - Morrigan, he learned her name was - using her powers to treat the more severe injuries. They worked as one unit, this strange rag-tag group, clearing the path, repairing the wagons, and burning the bodies of the dead. When they were done, they packed their few belongings into large rucksacks that the two larger men hoisted onto their shoulders..</p>
<p>The red-haired archer with the lilting Orlesian accent came to his side. Dropping to her haunches, she slid a blade from a hidden scabbard, and Zevran thought his time had come. He stiffened himself and waited for the final blow, but instead, she spoke. “You’ll be coming with us,” she said evenly. “I’m going to cut your bindings, so you can walk. If you try to flee, or attack any of us-” she tilted her head ever-so-slightly towards where the two Wardens were conferring in low whispers, “-it will end very badly for you.”</p>
<p>He nodded, intrigued. Why were they letting him live, and where were they going?</p>
<p>Leliana helped him to his feet, and supported him as he regained the feeling in his numb legs. Megara gave one final scan around the area, and then they left. Alistair lead the way, the drunken dwarf by his side. Behind him were the two women, bickering about something inane.</p>
<p>He was next to Megara, though she paid him little attention, and he was acutely aware of the large Qunari and the massive stone golem behind him.</p>
<p>They made their way along the path, walking until the sun was low in the sky. He attempted to converse with his companion, but she answered either in short, clipped sentences, or with silence, and he soon gave up.</p>
<p>As they set up camp in a suitable spot, he tried once again to get Megara to open up. “You like having me around, yes? I don’t blame you for not leaving my side all day. I should have warned you, I have that effect on people.”</p>
<p>She finished lighting the fire, and turned to him. “Never keep the assassin at your back,” she replied shortly, then began cooking their dinner. The large Qunari ensured his legs were trussed up before freeing his hands, and stayed close as Megara walked up to him, a bowl of stew in her hand. “Here,” she said, handing him the food. “Eat.”</p>
<p>“Not that I mind the travel and the fresh air, but what do you plan to do with me?” he asked. The uncertainty had become unbearable. They had asked him no other questions, had demanded nothing of him, and not knowing what was to come was driving him batty.</p>
<p>She exhaled heavily, rotating her neck from side to side to work out the kinks. He wisely refrained from making any offers of help.</p>
<p>“I don’t know yet,” she said, and suddenly she looked tired, and so very sad. “We’ll see.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you could cut me loose? I won’t attack you, I swear it.”</p>
<p>That startled a laugh out of her, and he found himself rather enjoying the sound. Sadly, it was a short one. “I think not, my Crow friend. Not yet, anyway. Enjoy your dinner.” She walked off, and he watched the way her hips swung from side to side.</p>
<p>Sten knocked him on the back of his head, nearly unseating him. “Eat,” the qunari commanded in a gruff voice.</p>
<p>He ate. The stew was very good.</p>
<p>He stretched out on the thin bedroll they had provided for him, and pondered his situation. This strange group had piqued his interest, and their leader even more so. As he drifted off to sleep, the sound of Megara’s laughter played over and over in his head.</p>
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